Run
by dancingirl87
Summary: Post 4x16. Her things are in boxes, her heart is in tatters and Oliver… Oliver is not hers anymore. Whether she's running away or towards something is still unclear.
Gah. 4x16 was heartbreaking but necessary. I had some feelings (read: lots of feelings) and I wrote this. Haven't really written anything in-canon in awhile time, so I hope I did it justice. Would love to hear your thoughts!

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Her feet rhythmically pound the pavement as the energy that's been building and simmering in her body slowly peters out. She's not overly athletic, not like the rest of the team, but this, this she can do. Running is something that has always helped when she's especially frustrated or anxious, when she can't turn off her brain long enough to focus or sleep.

Today, yesterday, this week in general, has been hell. Last night, she'd laid in an unfamiliar bed for hours, staring at the ceiling in the dark, unable to fall asleep. This morning she'd sat hunched over at her desk with an untouched cup of coffee, her body vibrating with the need to get out, to move, to run.

Whether she's running away or towards something is still unclear.

Telling Oliver that she was already gone was one thing. Words are easy. Moving on is something completely different.

The pain is like a living thing inside of her, worming its way into her chest and tearing it to pieces while she tries to paste a smile on her face and pretend everything is okay. It's constant and relentless, but right now, as her heart pounds and her feet race, it's receded. Slightly.

God, how did she get here? She'd honestly thought that she and Oliver would get to have it all. That love was enough. How foolish was she? She used to be the person who could read him like a book but she hadn't seen this plot twist coming. Everything is so far from okay that she's not sure she'll ever make it back in one piece.

Her things are in boxes, her heart is in tatters and Oliver… Oliver is not hers anymore. And she's not his. He didn't want to let her go, and some part of her hadn't wanted him to, had wanted him to fight tooth and nail to keep her by his side, but a larger part of her knows that Oliver wouldn't force her to do anything she didn't want to do. If she wanted, _needed_ , to walk away, to leave him, then he would stand back and let her. He loves her enough to respect her choices.

Standing in the church, and again in the lair, he'd made his stand, said his piece, and reminded her that she held his heart in her hands. She believes that he believes what he said to her, but she can't help but think that's all it was. Words. And words aren't enough to hold a relationship, a _marriage_ , together. She needs action. She needs Oliver to let her in, to lean on her when he's hurting, to ask her for help when he's lost.

And he can't do that.

He's proven time and again that while he loves her, and he does love her, she doesn't doubt that for a minute, he doesn't trust her enough to include her in the important decisions. And so while she trusts him with her life, with her heart, she doesn't trust him to be honest with her and she can't stay around hoping and praying that he'll change.

Her mom told her that. People don't change. While she'd immediately believed that Oliver was the exception, that they were special because they've made it through so much together already, she's seeing now that maybe her mother wasn't so far off.

Oliver can't change. So she left him. She walked away, _again_ , and God, it was the hardest thing she's ever done.

She knows in her bones, in the deep recesses of her heart that it was the right thing to do. She can't stay there, night after night, and be so close to him and know that they won't be going home together, that there will be no easy mornings or soft kisses. She can see herself being drawn back in, worn down over time until they're right back where they started and nothing has changed. She can't be the voice in his ear when he's not really listening to her, not understanding what she needs from him.

This time she doesn't know when, or if, she'll be back. She can't see her destination because everything that she is, she's put into this relationship. Her life revolves around Oliver Queen and it had been okay when she thought he was just as invested. But discovering the secrets, the lies, the decisions he's made without her… It's too much. She can't be all in, losing herself in him, if he's not right there with her.

So she put herself first, because she values herself, her heart, and her sanity and she can't live just with pieces scrapped together and held by sheer will. She needs to figure out who she is without Oliver.

It's absolutely terrifying. Who is she without Oliver? Without the team? He said she would be a part of the team forever and always, but forever is a whole lot shorter than she'd ever imagined. Last time she'd been able to help the team remotely but she doesn't know if she'll be able to handle it now.

She's taking some time. Maybe she'll be back. Maybe she won't.

The idea that she won't sends her gut churning, her pulse spiking and she shakes her head, as though she can shake the thought right out, like water in her ear after swimming.

Pushing harder, she turns the next corner at top speed. Gravel scatters as she pumps her arms with more power. The roads around here are familiar, but she's purposely stayed far away from their old neighbourhood. Running into him, into anyone she knows, who might look at her with pity or sorrow, would be more than her shaky nerves can handle on no sleep and no coffee.

But maybe if she runs fast enough, if she pushes hard enough, she'll tire herself out so that she can actually sleep tonight. So that she can have a night of peace instead of tossing and turning and seeing Oliver's face, his eyes shining with love as he vows to cherish her, as he begs for a second chance.

As he promises to never lie to her again.

But it's all just words.

Her thoughts just keep circling back to that.

Oliver is a man of action, but when it comes to the important things, the emotional things, he has his defaults, the way he's done things since the island. Although he's changed since then, there are still certain habits and behaviours that he can't seem to escape.

Night terrors. Sacrificing himself for the people that he loves. Trying to solve everything on his own.

She can deal with the nightmares. She's helped him through countless in the time they've been together. He's mostly moved past sacrificing himself, thank God. He can see that there are other ways to succeed, to win. But he can't seem to understand that she is his partner. She's his partner in every aspect of the word and that means something different to her than it does to him.

He can't seem to share all of himself with her. She doesn't need to know all of the shadowy corners of his past, but she's supposed to be his present and his future and she wants them to be equal partners in that respect. He can't seem to open up the same way that she has. And that's a deal breaker.

Oh, she knows that he'll try. He said as much when she gave the ring back, in that lost, heartbroken tone, but his actions tell a different story. Trying is one thing, words are another, and she's been drowning this last week between boxing up her things and cancelling the wedding and trying to carry on as normal with the team. And then he suggested that godforsaken fake wedding that had just torn her up inside.

She can't even go there. Honestly, no one else had understood what putting on a wedding dress and pretending to marry him meant to her. How heartbreaking it had been only days after she took off the ring and walked out of his life. She'd eventually agreed to it because it's what they do. They save lives and she couldn't have lived with herself if she'd refused and people had gotten hurt. But the whole farce had been so painful, that she'd had to check multiple times that Cupid hadn't hit her with a wayward arrow.

What she'd said to Cupid, and to Oliver, in there… It's true. She hadn't been lying and trying to save them by spouting empty words. She'd listened to his heartfelt vows, her heart clenching painfully. She'd seen Oliver's face as she spoke of love, the love she had for him, her belief in the love they shared. There had been hope there, the anticipation that maybe she would change her mind, that they could talk, could make things work. And while she had spoken from the heart, the words, the feelings, they aren't enough.

Finding him later, watching footage of them - seeing herself on television is still so surreal - but the quiet contemplation on his face had been oh so real. No, it had not been how she'd imagined their wedding to be either, but she can't even seem to picture it anymore.

She'd handed back the ring, _again_ , and God, she hopes that it's the last time because it hurt, this searing pain right in her chest. The gentle brush of his fingers against her palm, the tears that he'd barely been holding back, the same tears that she forced herself to hold inside because this was her choice and this is how she's going to survive. She'd made her feet move, to walk away from him one step at a time, even as she felt the pull back towards him, the same pull she's felt since he walked into her cubicle.

She needs to go away, needs to be alone right now. She loves Oliver. She loves him so much more than she ever thought was possible, but she loves herself too and she deserves someone who's going to give her everything, who's going to be her partner in life and in love, and Oliver isn't that person.

 _Oliver isn't that person._

Her breath catches in her chest and her feet stumble to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. The words echo is her head, taunting her. Bracing her hands on her knees, she gasps for air. Tears sting her eyes and she squeezes them shut, forcing them back. There's no way she's breaking down in the middle of the street.

After some deep breaths and mental pep talking the tears recede, for now, and she blinks her eyes open. The pavement beneath her brightly sneakered feet is cracked and she imagines that her heart would look much the same, if you cranked open her chest to take a peek.

For some reason she hears Oliver's voice in her head, the last thing that he said to her in the lair.

 _I don't want to let you go._

"Felicity?"

Her heart stops. It just stops beating in her chest and she freezes, then jerks herself upright so fast she nearly gives herself whiplash. "Oliver?"

He's standing a couple feet away as though she called him to life with her thoughts. He's dressed in dark shorts and a t-shirt that's soaked through with sweat, breathing heavily and staring at her in surprise. Headphones dangle around his neck and her eyes are drawn to his mouth as it opens and closes. There is a painful feeling brewing inside of her that she desperately wants to go away.

"Hi," he eventually says, and his voice is quiet and unsure and God, she wants to wrap her arms around him and breathe him in but no - she is not doing that because that's not what they are anymore. She forces herself to take a deep breath, tries to unclench hands that have balled into fists at her sides. "You're… running?"

He's confused and rightfully so. She's never voluntarily gone running since they left for Ivy Town, where they'd lived a picture perfect life in the suburbs. And when they came back to Star City things had been fairly smooth and she was so busy with Palmer Tech that she hadn't had time for anything else…

And then she hadn't been able to walk, let alone run, for weeks.

So no, Oliver doesn't really know this side of her, the one that longs to expend all the energy that's simmering inside her body and pound the pavement until her brain can't think of anything beyond simply breathing in and out.

"Yeah," she finally says, and thank goodness her voice comes out even. She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and purposely stares at a spot just beyond his shoulder. She can't meet his eyes because they really are a window to his soul. She'll be able to read every painful emotion there and she's got enough of those on her own. "A lot going on," she adds, her hand halfheartedly gesturing in a circling motion at her head.

He nods slightly, his eyes trained evenly on her face before dropping to the ground. He's a few feet away but it feels like miles. It's an uncrossable chasm and she put this distance between them. They've fought numerous times in their relationship but nothing has every felt as exquisitely painful as this.

The silence is agonizing. She takes a chance and lets her gaze rest on his downturned face. She can't quite get a read on the emotions she sees there. It makes her feel lost and her stomach churns as she struggles to find something to say.

He beats her to it. "How have you been?" he asks, glancing up at her and immediately looking like he regrets opening his mouth.

She presses her lips together. Are they really going to do this? This is awful, this awkward small talk. This is why she wanted to leave, to be alone, because she can't be with him and not _with_ _him_. It's too hard.

He must read the frustration on her face because he quickly backtracks. "I mean, I should let you get back to it." He lifts an arm like he's going to reach out to her, then lets it drop heavily back to his side, closing his eyes briefly and shifting his weight uncomfortably.

The terrible strained silence between them looms like an actual physical presence. It's suffocating her, pressing down on her until she can't breathe, until she's going to crack under the pressure and break into pieces right here on the street.

She knows Oliver will catch her but she can't.

She _can't_.

She loves him so much but she can't be with him right now and it's torture to stand here while he's all sweaty and beautiful and looking at her like a lost puppy. He looks at her like she's his sun and she's not strong enough for this, not after everything else she's been through this week.

She turns and runs, taking off back the way she came without a word. Her feet hit the ground at breakneck speed, her breath coming in desperate gasps. He does't shout after her, doesn't outwardly do anything, but she can feel the heavy weight of his gaze burning into her skin until she finally turns the corner.

And then she stops and drops to the curb, curls herself into a little ball right there in the middle of the street, and cries.


End file.
